


my grim reaper prince

by missnothing



Category: Brand New, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 07:33:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missnothing/pseuds/missnothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this was writter for the lovely heater (jesselacey on tumblr), who seems to be obsessed with this pairing just as much as i am. ha ahaha ah ahah ah a.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my grim reaper prince

**Author's Note:**

> (i am so sorry if this contains any mistake, but english isn't my first language!!)

"Dude, you're shaking.", Frank heard Andrew saying from his left. And maybe he was, but he couldn't just let him win like that.

  
"I so am not, man." He replied, faking his best indifferent expression and rolling his eyes. He was so fucked.

  
"Look, it's totally okay if you're shaking. But maybe you need a glass of water, some fresh air, or-" Andrew tried in response, probably doing his best to be the most annoying human being Frank had ever met, and Frank just couldn't take it anymore.

  
"I just need you to shut your mouth for a second." He said, trying to cut it short, and Andrew surprisingly decided to do as he had been told. Frank coughed to lighten up the silence that fell between them: it wasn't like he had wanted Andrew to shut up... he just didn't want him to point out how stupidly in love Frank was with this Jesse guy.  
And yes, Frank was shaking.

  
He was shaking and panting and he couldn't breathe. His throat felt like it had been filled with cold water and he was drowning in a sea of nothing. His lungs, on the other hand, were burning: it made him feel hot all over, head lighter than ever and legs so heavy he didn't think he could move. He tried not to think about it.

  
Ten minutes.

  
He looked around the venue to at least try to concentrate on something other than his stupid crush: there were about two hundreds of people, and he recognized some faces from back when he was still in the scene.

  
Five minutes.

  
The place was small -smaller than the places where he used to play in, he thought with a stupid grin on his face-, so it wasn't going to be hard for Jesse to spot him in the crowd.

  
Two minutes.

  
Frank realized how lucky he was to be in front row, because otherwise he probably wouldn't have survived the moshpits, and just stopped thinking when the lights went off.  
That moment was always like coming home, even though he had never really left: it's just that sometimes you feel at home in someone else's eyes more than in you own bed. Sometimes you stay up all night, craving for one last kiss, and some other times you just wish you could disappear in that “special someone”'s arms.  
And, for Frank, that “special someone” was Jesse.

  
He really didn't know what was so unique about him: Jesse was an asshole most of the time, he yelled a lot and sometimes he would drink beer all day and just wouldn't talk to you. But then, every time they fought, Frank thought that after all he was just an asshole too, and maybe that was the truest kind of love.  
So Frank just stared at him, waiting for the moment where they would find each other's eyes in the crowd.  
His heart was beating again. He was alive.

 

 

**

 

 

After the show, everything was gone: Frank felt empty, drained of every kind of energy, and he completely forgot about everyone other than Jesse. He headed straight to the backstage, meeting no resistance from the bodyguards who had probably been warned, almost running.

  
His head was spinning, his thoughts were a blur, and maybe those three shots were just starting to get to his head, and he still couldn't care less.  
Over the years, he had given up a lot for this guy. His friends, his dreams, his family. His band.

  
Frank had lost so many things that he didn't bother counting them anymore: he was just a short guy with too many tattoos and two stupid piercings, living a boring life in small apartment. He worked in a library (which was super cool, because he could keep his headphones in all day and just ignore everyone as much as possible) and sometimes he played guitar. He had a dog to keep him company when he felt like talking to someone and it was obvious that the best thing about his life was his stupid boyfriend, who happened to be away six or seven months a year.

  
Right now, though, he was just on the other side of the door, so Frank opened it with all the strength he had. Jesse turned around at the terrible squeaking noise it made, smiling with his whole face and body when he saw Frank waiting for him. He was just getting out of his stage clothes, Frank noticed, and he thought that maybe it wasn't going to be too bad to wait two or three minutes after waiting for three whole months.

  
"Hey, I'll be outside if you're looking for me." Said Frank, turning around again. Before he could leave the room, though, he was interrupted.

  
"What if I'm not?" Asked Jesse, wicked smile on his lips. Frank knew he wasn't serious, but he felt so vulnerable and exposed that he couldn't help but getting hurt.

  
"Then you're not getting laid tonight." He replied like it was nothing, same expression on his face.

  
"That's a shame." Said Jesse, walking closer to Frank. He only seemed to be satisfied when their foreheads were touching and their lips were just a fraction of an inch away. He locked the door behind Frank in one swift motion and crowded him against it. Frank started breathing again -not even realizing when he had stopped doing so- when Jesse took his wrists in his hands, holding so tight it was going to leave bruises, and he felt so turned on he was going to cry.

  
He loved that feeling. Loved being taken, loved the anticipation, loved when his heart skipped a beat. But on the top of it, he loved his boyfriend, and it was in those moments that he thought that everything he had done was totally worth it.

  
Then Jesse kissed him, and it was that kind of kiss that was meant to leave marks: he was biting Frank's lower lip so hard they could both taste blood at a certain point, leaving small kisses all over his jaw and neck, sucking purple hickeys where everyone could see them. His, forever.

  
Frank didn't realize that he had started to grind against him, neither did he realize that he had been hard since the gig started, but it didn't matter because apparently Jesse was just as hard as him, a moaning mess in his boyfriend's arms.

  
"F-fuck. I missed you." Jesse panted against Frank's ear, keeping his head on his shoulder and moving his hands to his waist to get a better angle. Frank moaned approvingly and started moving faster, so close to the edge it almost hurt. "I love you so fucking much." Jesse kept babbling, and even if he was incapable of forming coherent sentences, Frank couldn't help but smile at those words. He closed his eyes, arched his back from the door and with the same stupid expression, he came, so blissed out and lost in it he didn't even realize it when it happened.

  
He laughed a bit at the sticky mess in his pants, but quickly decided to just finish off his boyfriend: he stuck a hand in his underwear and started touching him without any real technique, pulling some beautiful noises out of him and feeling satisfied when, with a shout, he came too.

  
They were both panting, lying spent against the door, and it was only when their breathings calmed that they thought of actually talking to each other.

  
"We're not really good at this whole... passionate and slow and tender love-making thing." Said Frank, noticing his hear was still thrumming. Jesse laughed softly, tired and sleepy.

  
"It doesn't suit us anyway." He said, yawning at the end of the sentence.

  
"I guess it doesn't." Replied Frank, giving him one last, innocent kiss before letting him change.


End file.
